The Fearful Letter
by SocialistBukharin
Summary: There is a reason Jacob Kowalski spent six more years in Europe after the end of the Great War. Written for the Houses Competition Year 5! Standard One-shot!


It was November 13th 1918, it was a cool morning in France and the city of Sedan looked better than it had a few weeks earlier.

Corporal Jacob Kowalski of the American Expeditionary Forces was smiling, his mustache wriggling happily as he went through his planned walk to the communication section of the military camp.

The young man with some chub and a pleasant, jolly outlook over life that had managed to survive the horrors this conflict had presented to his generation.

The War was over, he was thinking melodiously and even though he knew that finalizing a real peace would still take few weeks, those would be domineered by relative calm to the battlefield he had been living since last year.

With a sigh he turned the corner of a damaged building, an old toy shop, his smile lessening at the reminder of the battle which had first brought him in that place. He blinked, his mind suppressing the terrible memories of the tragic year as his brain continued to remind him of someone he had to contact.

Sure, his grandparents were going to receive a letter from him as soon as he could, but his attention was directed to someone else.

Waving at the grumbling old man wearing that standard uniform still containing some traces of dust in it, a little humming happened by his lips as he waited to see if some letter from_ him_ was there for Jacob to see and read.

Tapping his index fingers on the old, creaking counter, the young man tried to keep the quiet rhythm developing in that moment of relief.

The future looked quite bright as far he knew. Back home a job was going to become a must and since he had fought in this War, he was sure that his dream of building a bakery in New York was going to be a simple thing.

He sighed and then turned curiously at the old man assigned to the mail, confused about the slower-than-usual pace the elder had taken as he returned back to the counter.

He could see a small amount of letters, possibly from his grandparents and hopefully some from his old friends back home and-

The melody faded almost instantly, the song died in his throat and an icy sensation started to freeze him on the spot. He could feel his heart drumming calmly, then the pace became a little quicker as the realization continued to sink, without hesitation, deeper in his core.

His mind was going blank as he felt his face and hands paling at the sight given to him in the form of a little yellow paper. Jacob had seen this kind of letters- no, telegrams- that Chaplain Douglas would write to the families of those who had fallen in the great fights.

It was an uneasy job, one the same Chaplain had repeated more than once, that he would have preferred to have never volunteered for because the haunting gazes of those long gone were there for him to find in his sleep.

An unforgiving work, but one that somebody has to do. That is how Kowalski had envisioned this while he continued to focus on the active sections of the front in Sedan.

Taking a seat on an old and decrepit chair of dark wood, the Corporal was silent as he quietly unfolded the small piece of paper.

'Cpl. Jacob Kowalski,

I write you this letter to regretfully notify you that your brother Private Vincent Kowalski has been found dead on the night of November the 9th. From the declarations of his direct superior, Sgt. Edge, he fought valiantly during one of the last German offensives in the Belgian front-'

The paper fell quietly on the floor of the small building as Jacob continued to stare at it silently. His mind was trying and failing to digest the news that he had just received.

The words of his younger brother when they were finally recruited in the Army once again resonating in his ears, as if it had been just yesterday, when the more naive of the two started to brag about the glory and the fame, the _ladies_ they were going to get once they finished to deal with the conflict in Europe.

He could remember the determined tone in the last letter from the still eager young man, promising how he would help once Jacob was ready to have his own bakery. To make it a family business like those their grandma liked…

Standing up from his temporary seat, he ignored the saddened expression from the old mailman, instead picking the paper and folding it back before putting it in one of the few pockets in his pants.

His pace was slow, slower than before, as he tried to think of what he should say to his grandparents. The War was over… but at what cost?

Picking up a little more speed, Jacob's mind was still chaotically sorting out what he was supposed to do now?Should he go back to bed? Rest by the silent pond near the camp or maybe even-

He blinked, stopping abruptly and almost tripping on himself as the clear solution flashed brightly to him and he nodded to himself.

The mud trail was familiar to him, but the times he had to take it to reach the command post was actually very rare.

Brigadier O'Hara was the classic old military veteran from some past war, a minor one compared to the one fought here in Europe, but still a remarkable individual to have as a leader.

The moment the Corporal stepped inside his office, the man was busying himself with some old French newspaper and a lit cigar on his lips. The superior glanced up from the paper and noticed the young man saluting at him, nodding and letting out a puff of his smoke.

"Rest, Corporal Kowalski. The Germans are done and a little leniency about military protocol can be forgiven." He waited a moment, noticing the somber look on the youth's face. "Something's wrong, young man?"

Jacob blinked and nodded. "Sir." He started, feeling his strength, the resolve to go ahead with this decision of his waning as he went to ask. Still he did mutter the right words: "I wish to stay in France."

The leading officer blinked once, then twice. Finally, he dropped the paper on his desk and slowly folded his arms near his chest. "Elaborate the request, lad."

"I wish to join the peace-keeping force. I've heard from Sergeant Fiddle that there would have been one with the war now over-"

"But I will not send a simple Corporal there." The stern voice interrupted. "We are sending those who have shown valor and grand distinction on the battlefield. It isn't a glorious job nor something made for you-"

"Sir, with all due respect I don't seek honor." Red flashed on his cheeks, Jacob mortified at having let out such outburst at a high officer.

Yet it did bring out quite the curious reaction from the Brigadier. The old man blinked, surprised, then frowned and looked back at the young soldier. "Why?"

"B-Beg your pardo-"

"Why do you want to join the peace-keeping mission, lad. I've things to do and I wish to deal with this quickly."

Jacob blinked and nodded quickly. "S-Sir, my brother- he was stationed there when-" His words died, his throat was hurting and his sight was blurry as some tears were finally had fought back that trembling, that sorrow until then, managing to pull a composed form until that point.

The elder stood silent and looked back at the paper. Few moments later, the Corporal had completely calmed down."Do you have the telegram, son?"

Jacob nodded, taking out the small yellow paper out of his pocket and handing it over to the balding officer and waited.

The man slowly studied the content of the paper, frowning at some bits and nodding at others.

Two minutes of full silence followed and then, the man sighed.

"Your brother died near Liege. The area is a hot-spot for trouble right now and… I shouldn't be doing this." His eyes were narrowed at the young Corporal. "The Peace-Keeping Mission is something that you will have to endure for six long years, there is no turning back once I've signed the paper to recommend you for a post on the border and you will have to live there for the entire length of the mission. Do you understand?"

Kowalski gulped nervously, having heard that it would take long periods but… six more years away from home and his grandparents-

No. His mind steeled his resolve as he had a duty as the older brother, he had to, in tmemory of Vincent.

"Sign me up, sir."

The officer puffed his cigar once more as he started to sign the various papers required for the transfer.

A large folder was given, on top of it the small yellow telegram. "Send this to Staff of Colonel Franchon, he will accept the documents and I shall see you departing in two days." The man stood up and sighed. "Your life will be one of hardships, son. Do remember that."

Jacob nodded and saluting once more, turned around and rushed away from the command post, his new objective being once more the mailman and… he stopped to stare at the telegram once more.

The cool wind returning once more as the piece of paper started to struggle in his hold, his eyes narrowing as he made the last decision before committing to the familial duty.

Slipping away, the telegram fluttered up and away, lulled by the breeze while Corporal Kowalski prepared for one last mission.

A watch over his _sleeping _brother.

* * *

**AN**

**Author's Notes:**

**House: Snakes**

**Standard**

**Class: 5**

**Prompts: [Character] Jacob Kowalski**

**Subject: History of Magic**

**Word Count: 1628**


End file.
